


Sky Comes Falling Down

by turps



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 09:55:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13315707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: When Porthos is subjected to racist remarks Athos and Aramis react.





	Sky Comes Falling Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aqwt101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aqwt101/gifts).



> Not beta read.
> 
> Written for fandom_stocking
> 
> Warnings for period-appropriate racism.

“Gentlemen, if you please.” Aramis grins as he eases himself between Athos and Porthos, effortless fitting himself between them. “You’re walking too fast. Take the time to enjoy this beautiful day. Enjoy the sun on your face, the sound of the birds singing...”

Athos frowns, cutting in as he says, “The mud under our feet and the stench of the pigs.”

“But such beautiful pigs.” Aramis’ grin widens, and Porthos smiles in response, enjoying the sound of Athos’ long-suffering sigh.

“They are beautiful pigs.” Playing along, Porthos cranes his neck so he can look at the nearby pig-pen, and the four fat pigs inside. “They’d make a wonderful supper.”

“But not for us, alas.” His tone light, Aramis reaches out, stretching a little as he drapes his arm over Porthos’ shoulder. “I suspect it’ll be bread and cheese for supper yet again, though I do have an apple from that delightful market stall we’ve just passed.”

“By which he means that delightful stall holder’s daughter,” Porthos says, this routine of joking as familiar as the feel of Aramis’ arm at his back. “And you’ll be sharing the apple, of course.”

“But of course.” His eyes wide, Aramis brings his free hand to his chest, affecting shock. “As if I wouldn’t share with my brothers. What’s mine is yours. What’s yours is….”

“Get away from him! It’s bad enough he feels free to wander this village, but to _touch_ him.” The shout is unexpected -- and loud -- a man stepping forward from an alley as he yells yet again. “Such things are not tolerated here.”

Instantly, Porthos brings his hand to the hilt of his sword, ready to draw, and to either side his brothers mimic the action. Both appear calm on the surface, but beneath that, already Porthos can see fury in the set of their shoulders, the tilt of their heads, and he knows the man is on dangerous ground.

“What did you say?” Athos asks, the words clipped and precise as he adds, “Are you aware you’re talking to the King’s Musketeers?”

“I’m aware,” the man says, and spits on the ground. “That makes it worse. The palace allowing scum like him to darken its doors. It’s not right. He should be on the slave ships not serving our king.”

“You forget yourself,” Athos says, low and dangerous. “But we’re reasonable men. We’ll let you live if you apologise.”

“We will?” His eyes narrowed, Aramis draws his sword, the threat of impending death evident as he takes a step forward. “Such ignorance deserves punishment. I say he dies.”

“An excellent point,” Athos allows, head tilted a little to one side as if considering. And then, “I concede, he can die.”

“No, he can’t.” Porthos steps in front of Athos and Aramis, aware of their incredulous expressions as he says, “No one is dying today.”

“He insulted you.” His anger obvious, Aramis looks from Porthos to the man, who’s still scowling at Porthos. “No one gets to do that. No one!”

“But it still happens.” This isn’t a conversation Porthos wants to have here, on the outskirts of a small village on a sunny spring day, but it’s one that has to happen, however briefly. “And if I killed everyone who thought they could insult me due to my skin I’d be surrounded by blood always. He’s not worth it.”

“What about cutting him a little? Or a shoulder shot?” Aramis suggests, taking a deep breath as he focuses his attention only on Porthos. “It would be a reminder that his stupidity has consequences.”

It’s a tempting thought, and for a moment Porthos imagines the man cowering on the ground, dirt under his hands and knees and blood running over his back. But it’s something that can’t happen, not if Porthos wants to remain the better man.

“Tempting, but no. Ignore him. We’ve an inn to get to and I’ve card games to win.”

“Players to cheat you mean, but fine, brother, on this occasion we’ll listen to you.” Athos says, dropping his hand as he stares at the man. “I suggest you leave now.”

“Brother?” The man sneers, apparently as stupid as he is ignorant. “He’s no brother of yours, how can he be looking like that?”

In an instant, Aramis brings up his sword. “That’s it, Porthos, I don’t care….”

“I’ve got this,” Porthos says, and draws back his arm, making a fist as he surges forward, hitting the man full force in the face. 

“Impressive.” Aramis whistles, watching as the man falls to the ground with a thump, mud squelching around him as he lies prone, head to one side and nose obviously broken.

Porthos flexes his hand, his knuckles aching, satisfaction taking hold as he looks down. “Bloody idiot didn’t know when to shut up.”

“Well he’s quiet now,” Athos says, giving Porthos an approving nod.

“And maybe he’ll keep his idiotic thoughts to himself next time,” Aramis says, taking his former place next to Porthos, complete with arm over his shoulder. “But if it ever happens again I will shoot them.”

“Oh, it’ll happen again.” Porthos knows that it will, that’s inevitable. It’s something he’s dealt with all of his life, but something that’s easier when he’s got good friends at his side. Not _easy_. Prejudice will never be that, but _easier_ , yes. “And when it does, I might let you poke them a little.”

“You’re so generous,” Athos says, rolling his eyes, but Porthos doesn’t miss how he kicks the man in the ribs as he walks past, or that Aramis is crowding close, as if he can shield Porthos from harsh words with his own body.

And that’s why it will be easier, and Porthos smiles as he walks on with his brothers.


End file.
